


Okay, But Not Really

by majorhtom



Series: Trumpstopia [3]
Category: Pundit & Broadcast Journalist RPF (US), Real News RPF
Genre: AU, Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Blood, CNN, COVID-19, Capitol insurrection, Face Mask, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Terrorism, far right extremism, injury detail, social distancing, terrorist attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28704639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majorhtom/pseuds/majorhtom
Summary: An attack on CNN in the wake of the Capitol attack has everyone wondering just what happened and how it happened.
Series: Trumpstopia [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/990042
Comments: 8
Kudos: 5





	1. Jake Tapper

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been glued to the footage of the Capitol Hill insurrection for days. This is just me trying to make sense of it all using the anchors and reporters I’m most familiar with.  
> I should say right now that this is a work of fiction.

Jake was in his office, on his phone, scrolling through his Twitter feed. That was how he found out about rioters at his place of work. He did as he was told and sheltered in place with his assistant, even as the fire alarms blared.

Then came what sounded like an explosion. He told his assistant to hide. He grabbed his phone and ran out of his office to see what was going on. 

“Phil!” He shouted. 

“They’re here-I don’t know how-“

“ _Who’s_ here?” 

“The MAGA crowd.” 

“... _what_?” 

“They’re after us, Jake. I think they’ve got some of us already-“

“Security?”

Phil shrugged. “Trying to hold them back. They can’t hold back thousands of terrorists.”

“What about the National Guard?” Jake asked. 

“On their way.” Phil said. 

Gunshots rang out close by, causing them both to jump in surprise. 

“I’m going to get a camera crew.” Phil said as he rushed off as quickly as he could. 

“Be careful!” Jake called after him. 

Jake then rushed off himself, away from the sound of the gunfire. 

The halls were empty-for now-save for a few researchers and staff running past. Jake pulled out his phone to record what he was seeing. 

“Right now, there’s an attack going on against us by the President’s mob. We thought we wouldn’t see this given what happened at the Capitol not two weeks ago.Threats against the media were credible. Where is the FBI? Where are the cops? Where is the National Guard?”

Jake opened the door to someone wearing a MAGA hat. “Oh jeez.” He muttered. 

The MAGA hat guy butted him in the face with his flagpole. Then punched him. Jake tried to fight back, but the guy knocked him to the ground and kicked him, shouting ‘fuck CNN!’ 

After around a minute of this, a security officer managed to pull the guy off Jake, who scrambled away, his face bloodied. 

“Oh my god, they’re out for blood.” Jake said to his phone. 

The MAGA hat guy broke away from the security officer and lunged at Jake in the hallway, tackling him down. 

Jake managed to kick him in the face. Once again, he grabbed his phone and scrambled to his feet and ran as quickly as he could. He turned down another hallway and ran down it. He kept running until he ended up in the studio for The Situation Room and face to face with a group of MAGA terrorists. 

“Fuck.” Jake exclaimed.

One of them who was wearing an antisemetic QAnon hoodie pointed a handgun at him. “Fuck you, CNN scum! Fake news!”

The National Guard entered the room. 

“Drop your weapon!” One of them shouted. 

But it was too late. The gun had already discharged. 

The guy was tackled to the ground and the gun wrestled from his hand as the National Guard broke up the group, who were still chanting ‘fuck CNN’, though the guy who’d fired his gun was shouting something else; ‘die, scum media!’

“Shut up!” 

“Fucking piece of shit! Let go of me!” 

Wolf crawled out from behind his desk as other staffers emerged from their hiding places too. 

Jake noticed the collar of his shirt was wet. His arm was wet. Then he screamed out in pain as he he felt searing, burning pain in his neck and in his shoulder and instantly realised that he’d been shot. 

“Jake!” Wolf scrambled to his feet. “Oh no. No no-hang on!” He rushed over as quickly as he could. “Jake, it’s okay-“

To Jake, Wolf’s voice sounded distorted. The chanting and ranting from the mob being broken up sounded the same. He was focusing on the pain. Everything else was secondary. He’d never been shot before. It was easily the most painful thing that had ever happened to him and that included breaking his arm as a child.

Jake couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t stop himself. His knees gave way beneath him. He collapsed. 

Wolf was there to catch him as others came rushing around. “Oh please don’t do this. Jake please.” 

Jake couldn’t make out what Wolf was saying-there was a horrible ringing in his ears and the room was fading quickly from his vision. He was going to die, he knew it. He’d never see his wife and kids again. 

Chants of ‘Kill the press’ had broken out by the mob as they were being escorted away by the National Guard, though some troops had stayed behind. 

Wolf could see that Jake was bleeding out badly. He’d witnessed the shooting. He saw the bullets enter and exit Jake’s body. He knew he had to stem it. Ignoring the bullet hole in Jake’s shoulder and prioritising the one in his neck, Wolf pressed down hard while cradling Jake’s head in his lap. 

“It’s okay.” Wolf’s voice was shaking. “I got you. I got you. Just stay with me. Look at me-look at me, Jake! Stay with me!” 

Jake’s breathing had become more shallow. He couldn’t speak-it just felt like he was drowning. 

With every heartbeat, more of Jake’s blood stained Wolf’s suit. Not that he cared; the life of his friend and colleague was much more important than a suit, after all. “Jake. Look at me. Look. At. Me. Please don’t... just stay with me. For your wife. Your kids-“

The last thing Jake could feel was Wolf’s hands on his neck, trying to stem the bleeding. The last thing he saw was Wolf’s panicked face and members of the National Guard standing over him. The last thing he heard was Wolf’s voice. 

Then everything went black. 


	2. Jim Acosta

Jim was at the White House. It was not a normal day. In fact none of the days had been normal since the President’s calls to Brad Raffensperger has been released two weeks ago. Since then, there had been a runoff election in Georgia, a violent insurrection, terrorist threats, an impeachment and soaring COVID rates. 

But the fact that neither he nor his cameraman or his producer could get in touch with the team back at headquarters was worrying. He was supposed to have been appearing, talking to John King half an hour ago. But it was radio silence. 

“Can we get through to the New York team?” He asked. 

“Yeah.” His producer replied. “I can get through to them just fine. Same with HQ down in Atlanta.”

“Maybe communications are down at DC but NYC and Atlanta are okay.” The cameraman suggested. 

“I don’t-I’m not sure.” Jim said. “I’m gonna call Jake. Keep trying to get through to DC.” He took his phone from his pocket and scrolled through his many, _many_ contacts before reaching Jake Tapper and put his phone up to his ear. 

No answer. 

Jim did the same with Wolf Blitzer. Dana Bash. Abby Phillip. Jim Sciutto.

All with no answer. 

“I can’t get hold of anyone.” Jim said. 

“At all?” His cameraman asked. 

Jim shook his head as he tried Anderson Cooper’s phone number. 

“ _Hello? Jim?_ ” 

Jim’s blood ran cold. “Anderson. I can’t get hold of anyone.” 

“ _You’ve got hold of me._ ” Anderson said. “ _What do you need?_ ” 

“I’m supposed to be talking about the President and his threats to Congress. With John King. But it’s quiet, I can’t-I haven’t heard from them in half an hour-“

“Jim!” His producer shouted. “I know what’s going on!” 

“Hang on, Anderson-“ Jim put his hand over the receiver. “What’s going on?” He asked. 

“Terrorist attack!” 

Jim paled. “Are you sure?” 

“ _Very_ sure.” His producer said. “I just heard about it from a friend at CBS. What do you wanna do?” 

“Go back.” Jim said. “We have to go back there.” 

The producer nodded. “Alright, we’ll go back. Pack it up!” 

Without saying another word to Anderson, Jim hung up the phone. 

* * *

Headquarters wasn’t that far away. Getting past the police blockade took longer. There were members of the media everywhere-CBS, NBC, Fox, BBC. The cops and the National Guard were there, breaking up a riot. Some rioters were confronting the media and chants of ‘fuck CNN’ were loud and could be heard over the emergency sirens.

“I’m with the press!” Jim shouted, holding his press pass aloft.

Jim and his team were let through as a heavily bloodied man was being rushed away into an ambulance. He couldn’t see who it was, but that was all he needed to see to know that what had happened was bad. 

He was flagged down by Phil Mattingly. “Jim!” 

“Phil, what’s going on?” Jim asked. 

Phil shook his head. “It’s all gone to hell over here.” He said. “The MAGA idiots.” 

Jim took a microphone from his producer and held up up to Phil. 

“The FBI and police were preoccupied with any future attacks on the Capitol. They swapped targets. Some of them came here and went after us. People are hurt-people have  _died,_ Jim.” 

“Are  _you_ okay though?” Jim asked. 

Phil nodded. “Physically, at least. Psychologically, probably not.”

“How are CNN dealing with this?” Jim asked. “This is massive.” 

“I don’t know. I think the people in New York are handling it.” Phil said. “Haven’t heard anything from Atlanta.

“Do you know anyone who’s been injured? Killed?” Jim asked. 

Phil nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. I know someone was shot. Wolf apparently knows who it was. You can’t miss him. He’s covered in blood.” 

Jim’s eyes widened. “Is he okay?” 

“I honestly don’t know.” Phil said.

Jim nodded and patted Phil on the shoulder as he passed him to look for Wolf. 

It was chaos around them. If the Capitol insurrection was terrifying-and it  _was_ -there was something scarier about this. Not scarier. It was just as chilling. It’s just this was his place of work. Those were his colleagues that had been attacked. He didn’t know who was hurt, who was dead, what was going on. 

“I see him.” The cameraman said.

Jim nodded and the two hurried over to Wolf, who was just staring ahead, and Dana, who was standing a few feet away. 

“I think they already know.” Dana said to Wolf. 

Jim stopped roughly four foot away and held out his microphone. “Wolf, Dana, care to answer a few questions?” He asked.

Wolf carried on staring right ahead. “Can you answer one first? Why aren’t you at the White House?”

“I think you know why.” Jim said. 

He recoiled on realising that Phil was right; Wolf really  was covered in blood. His white shirt, his dark jacket and pants-all stained in a pool, but splattered elsewhere, including his face. The blood combined with the thousand yard stare-Jim quickly put two and two together to realise that Wolf had seen something very,  _very_ terrible 

“What happened?” He asked.

“A terrorist attack.” Wolf replied.

“Whose blood is that?”

“Not mine. Go back to the White House.”

Jim was about to say something else when Dana turned to him. “Jim, we’re a little raw right now, can you come back later?” She asked. “Please.”

Jim nodded. He didn’t want to press the subject. After all, they could potentially have witnessed the death of a colleague. Something traumatic had clearly happened to Wolf, given that he was covered in someone else’s blood. He motioned to his cameraman and they walked away through the chaos. He stopped in front of Abby Phillip. 

“Abby.” Jim said. “Can I ask you-“

“Yes.” Abby said. 

“Okay.” Jim said. “What happened? What happened in there?” 

“It was hell, Jim.” Abby said. “I’m hearing either four or five people are dead. Many more injured-“

“No, what did  _you_ see?” Jim asked. 

Abby realised what he meant and nodded. “I was with John King. They came in. One of them had a gun. But didn’t use it. John pushed me under the desk. Another one of them I think attacked a camera operator. I know John was hit on the head and got beaten.”

“Is he okay?” Jim asked. 

Abby shrugged. “I’m not sure. They were out for blood- _our_ blood.” 

“Do you know who... I saw someone in an ambulance, soaked in blood. You don’t know who it was?” 

Abby shook her head. “So many people were hurt it would be hard for me to answer that question.” 

“What’s-why is Wolf covered in blood-who’s blood?” Jim asked. “What’s going on with that?”

“I think-and this is just what I’m hearing-that Jake was shot and died in his arms.” Abby said.  


”Jake...?”   


”Tapper.” 

Jim’s stomach wrenched. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He was just too shocked. Instead he nodded. 

Jim knew that the press had become a target for the President’s far right-wing mob. The FBI has said as much. He didn’t expect it to hit so close to home. 


	3. Wolf Blitzer

Wolf still isn’t sure how it happened; how he ended up standing outside CNN’s DC headquarters, shell shocked, with a blanket draped over his shoulders and Jake Tapper’s blood soaked into his suit.

There were a few things he _was_ sure of. That there had been an attack on them. That he had escaped unharmed. That he had Jake’s phone with his account of the attack. That Jake had been shot and gravely wounded. That it was still not safe to go back inside. And that it was all the President’s fault. 

“Wolf, are you okay?” It was Dana Bash, standing a few feet away and wearing a face mask.

“I’m fine.” Wolf lied. “I’m just-I don’t know how this happened. Especially after what happened at the Capitol.” 

Dana simply nodded. She knew Wolf wasn’t okay. She wasn’t okay herself. Though she hadn’t witnessed the attempted murder of her colleague and ended up covered in his blood. 

“They’re taking John to the hospital.” She said.

“Is he okay?” Wolf asked. 

“Well, his head looks bad, so he’ll need stitches.” Dana said. “I just don’t know how I’m going to explain this to our son.” 

“The stitches?” 

“The _attack_.” 

Dana moved to stand next to Wolf, though still feet away. 

They both knew that there was no way that you could explain that to kids. Any kids. So they stood together, not saying anything. But not in silence either. It was full of shouting emergency personnel, SWAT teams, and the National Guard, staffers checking on their friends, sirens, reporters asking questions, people crying, chants of ‘fuck CNN’. The ordinary things you’d hear in a terror attack.

“Do you think they’re safe in New York and Atlanta?” Wolf asked. 

“I don’t know.” Dana said. 

“Do you think they _know_?” Wolf asked. 

Jim Acosta approached them carrying a microphone with a cameraman close behind.

“I think they know.” Dana replied. 

“Wolf, Dana, care to answer a few questions?” Jim asked. 

“Can you answer one first?” Wolf asked. “Why aren’t you at the White House?” 

“I think you know why.” Jim replied. He took a step back when he noticed Wolf was covered in blood. “What happened?” 

“A terrorist attack.” Wolf replied. 

“Whose blood is that?” Jim asked. 

“Not mine.” Wolf said. “Go back to the White House.” 

“Jim, we’re a little raw right now,” Dana said, “can you come back later? Please.”

Jim nodded. He then motioned to his cameraman and the two walked away to interview Abby Phillip. 

Dana turned to Wolf. “Wolf?”

Wolf sighed. 

Whenever he blinked, he saw red. He closed his eyes and saw red. It had only been twenty minutes-if that-and all he could think about was that bullet ripping its way through Jake’s neck. Jake collapsing into his arms. Jake passing out from the blood loss. The blood gushing out with every heartbeat. Trying desperately to stop the bleeding as his colleagues were hiding and getting hurt around him. 

“It’s been a terrible day, hasn’t it?” Dana asked, distracting Wolf from his thoughts.

“It’s not even over.” Wolf said. 

“We’re lucky the National Guard stepped in.” 

“Tell that to _Jake_.” 

Dana nodded. “Fair.”

“Do you think they’d mind if we cut out of work early today?” Wolf asked. 

“I‘m sure the New York team can handle it.” Dana said. 

The two of them watched on as the emergency services and National Guard did their jobs. Arresting the people involved. Looking past the spilled blood of their friends and colleagues. 

It really had been a terrible day. But that meant tomorrow could only be better. 

Unless there was a civil war. And things really looked to be heading that way. 


	4. Anderson Cooper

Anderson was burying himself with the day’s news. Congress, the President, rising COVID cases, Australian wildfires, Biden’s upcoming executive orders, the ramp up of Washington DC security for Biden’s upcoming inauguration-that would be on Wednesday. 

He could have called his assistant to get him a drink of water, but decided it would be better to get it himself; he needed to step away from everything. And it was about then his phone started ringing in his pocket. He took it out to see who was calling him and was confused when he saw it was Jim Acosta. He answered it all the same. 

“Hello? Jim?”

A slight pause. “ _Anderson. I can’t get hold of anyone_.”

Anderson frowned. What did he mean by that? “You’ve got hold of me. What do you need?”

“ _I’m supposed to be talking about the President and his threats to Congress._ ” Jim said. “ _With John King. But it’s quiet, I can’t-I haven’t heard from them in half an hour_ -“

Jim had stopped talking abruptly and that worried Anderson. “Jim, are you okay? Are you hurt?” 

No answer. 

”Jim-“

“ _Hang on, Anderson_ -“

“Jim? Jim what’s going on?” He asked. “Are you okay? Jim?”

No reply. 

“What’s going on? What’s happened? Is everything alright? Jim-“ 

The line cut dead-Jim had hung up. 

“What the hell was that about?” Anderson asked himself. He went to get his water, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened. Was Jim in trouble?

“Anderson-“ A researcher with an iPad came running over, stopping just short of a few feet away. “Anderson, sh-should we change the news lead for tonight?” 

“What do you mean change the news lead?” Anderson asked. 

“Well, you know, the terrorist attack.” The researcher said. 

“... What terrorist attack?” Anderson asked. He was a journalist, a reporter. He wasn’t used to being out of the loop like this.

“Oh... you don’t know...” The researcher held out their iPad. “There’s been a terrorist attack at the DC headquarters. CNN’s headquarters. NBC, CBS, Fox-they’re all reporting on it. The people there are tweeting about it. Wolf Blitzer, Jake Tapper and Dana Bash have all tweeted about it.”

“No wonder Jim couldn’t get hold of anyone.” Anderson said. He knew that he shouldn’t try to call anyone there as it might end badly. Then he realised that his colleagues in DC might not just be in danger, but they might also be hurt. “What kind of terrorist attack?” 

“Remember the Capitol riots?” The researcher asked. “Just like them.”

“Preplanned?” Anderson asked. 

The researcher shook their head and shrugged. “I don’t know. It just seems they’re storming around trying to get as many people as they can.” 

“Do we know who’s hurt?” 

“We know there are people who _have_ been hurt.” 

Anderson’s heart sank. “Well this is going to have to be our news lead for AC360.” He said. “I-I just don’t understand it. DC looks like a war zone. There’s over twenty-five thousand National Guard troops stationed there. How did they get into CNN?” 

“With guns.” The researcher added. 

“With _guns_?” 

“Yeah, there’s been reports of gunshots _and_ explosions.”

“Oh god.” Anderson said. 

“How did you _not_ know?” The researcher asked.

“I was focused on Joe Biden.” Anderson said. “Inauguration Day is on Wednesday-“

Alarms started blaring causing Anderson and the researcher to jump in surprise.

“What’s going on?” The researcher asked. 

“Nothing good.” Anderson took a mask from his shirt pocket and put it on. “Get out.” 

“Get out?” The researcher asked. 

Anderson nodded. “There’s been a terrorist attack on our colleagues in DC. _This_ isn’ta drill. We _need_ to leave the building.”

“Everyone needs to get out, now!” The floor marshal shouted as he ran past. “Come on! Come on!” 

Anderson pushed his researcher forward. “Go!” He shouted. 

The researcher ran down the halls and Anderson followed, not running, but not quite walking either. 

They entered the stairwell and the researcher went on ahead as Anderson quickly checked his Twitter, though he didn’t stop moving down the stairs. 

“Anderson!” 

Erin Burnett’s voice.

“Erin! Do you know what’s going on?”

“There’s been a terrorist attack in DC.”

“ _Here_ , I mean.” Anderson said. 

“Oh. Oh no. Um... I guess there’s terrorists here too.” Erin said. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s sent a bomb to us.” 

Anderson kept his phone and carried on down the stairs where he bumped into Chris Cuomo on a lower floor, who was on his phone. 

“You coming?” Anderson asked.

“Yeah, I’m just texting my wife.” Chris said. “Letting her know I’m okay.”

“You might not be if you don’t get off your phone.” Erin pointed out. 

“She’s right you know.” Anderson said. 

Chris put his phone in his pocket and headed down the stairs after them.

At the bottom of the stairwell, Anderson and Erin were ushered outside by safety marshals, alongside everyone else who was being evacuated from the building. 

“They’re really evacuating the _entire_ building.” Erin said. “This is serious, Anderson.” 

“I know.” Anderson said. “Something _really_ bad must have happened at DC.” A thought occurred to him. “Wait, if we can’t anchor shows, and there’s a terrorist attack in DC, does that mean that the channel’s dead, or-“

“No, I heard it’s being simulcast with CNN International.” Don said from behind. “Uh... Becky Anderson’s covering it.”

“Where did you hear that?” Erin asked. 

Don shrugged casually. “Twitter.” He said. “It’s not just us. _Everyone’s_ being evacuated. NBC, MSNBC, CBS, ABC-“

“Why?” Erin asked. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Don asked. “We’re all _targets_ now. All of us in the media, just as much as the politicians are.”   


Anderson grunted. He knew Don was right. The more people piled out of the building, some of them with equipment like cameras and microphones, the more it hit him how serious And unpredictable the situation really was. And he began wondering whether Wyatt would have his father or not by the end of the day. 

His phone rumbled in his pocket. He looked to see who it was calling him; his friend Andy Cohen, so he answered it. “Hello?”

” _Anderson, you’re okay_!” 

”What do you mean, I’m okay, of course I’m okay.”

” _I’m seeing it on Twitter that a CNN anchor was shot in the head_.” 

”And you thought that was _me_?” Anderson asked.

” _The thought did cross my mind._ ”

”I’m okay, Andy. The attack was at DC.” Anderson said and looked around at the still growing crowd outside. “But we’ve been evacuated too, as a precaution.”

” _Stay safe, okay, I don’t want to have to be raising Wyatt_ -“

”It wouldn’t be you, Andy, that would be Ben.” Anderson sighed. “Look, I’m going to have to go now. I’m fine. I’m probably going to be fine. If I die, I’ll be the first to let you know, I promise.”

” _Please. Stay safe._ ” 

”I will.” Anderson hung up and put his phone in his pocket as Chris approached him, Erin and Don.

It suddenly hit him like a train when he realised that Andy had said that a CNN anchor had been shot in the head. Was that true? Or was someone misreporting? Was that person okay? It was probably someone that he knew as well.

”Anderson, are you okay?” Chris asked.

”Yeah.” Anderson nodded. “But Andy-Andy Cohen-he’s just called me to check on me. He told me that an anchor at DC’s apparently just been shot in the head.” 


	5. Chris Cuomo

Chris was ushered out of the building and sent away. He spotted Anderson Cooper, Erin Burnett and Don Lemon, so he walked over in an attempt to glean some information. 

“I will.” Anderson said and put his phone in his pocket. He continued to stare straight ahead, clearly lost in some kind of thought.

Don and Erin exchanged worried glances.

Chris spoke up. “Anderson, are you okay?”

”Yeah.” Anderson nodded. “But Andy-Andy Cohen-he’s just called me to check on me. He told me that an anchor at DC’s apparently just been shot in the head.” 

“Holy shit.” Don exclaimed. 

“If that’s true, no wonder they evacuated us.” Erin said. 

“Did he say who it was?” Chris asked. “Do we know who it is?”

Anderson shook his head. “No.” He said. “Now I can’t stop thinking about who it might be. Is it Wolf? Or John? Brianna? Jake?” 

“It’s best not to dwell on it, Anderson.” Don said. “Andy might be wrong.” 

Anderson nodded. “Yeah. He _did_ hear it off Twitter.” 

Don shrugged. “There you go. I didn’t hear _anything_ when I was on it a couple minutes ago.” 

“Yeah, I didn’t see anything either, Anderson.” Chris said. 

“I’m just so worried.” Anderson said. 

“I know you are, brother.” Chris said. He put his hand on Anderson’s shoulder, but quickly recoiled when he remembered about the coronavirus. “It’ll be okay.”

“I hope you’re right, Chris.” Erin said. 

“It’s just a precaution, right?” Chris said. 

“Probably.” Don said. “Maybe. I’m not actually sure. You know, given that there’s _actually_ been an attack in DC and people are hurt. But I’ve seen on Twitter that they’re evacuating everywhere else too, so-“

“What do you mean ‘ _everywhere_ ’?” Chris asked as he adjusted his face mask.

“They’ve evacuated MSNBC and NBC over at 30 Rock.” Don said. “ABC at the Times Square Studios. CBS at the CBS Broadcast Center and the Ed Sullivan Theater-“

“Colbert?” Erin frowned. “Why would they evacuate _Colbert_?” 

“I don’t know.” Don shrugged. “But I _do_ know they also evacuated Fox News at the News Corp Building too.” 

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Really?” He asked. “Wow. This is serious.” 

“Chris.” Anderson said. “You know I love you, but it’s _obviously_ serious. There’s been a terrorist attack in DC and we’ve just been evacuated from our building.” 

Chris nodded. It was obvious, true. But in the middle of an emergency, it somehow seemed _less_ obvious. He took his phone from his pocket and opened up Twitter to search for his colleagues in DC. 

John King last tweeted about Martin Luther King Day. Abby Phillip last tweeted about the same thing. Wolf Blitzer last tweeted about there being an attack at CNN HQ. Dana Bash last tweeted the same thing. And Jake Tapper. Phil Mattingly. Jim Sciutto.Brianna Keilar. Jim Acosta’s last tweet was a retweet. Manu Raju’s last weet was about the Capitol being in lockdown. And none of them had tweeted in the last half an hour. 

CNN Attack was now the top trend on Twitter, along with CNN, CNN Riots, Fake News CNN, MLKDay, Domestic Terrorism, National Guard, Evacuated, Inauguration, Scum Media and I Have A Dream. 

Chris’ stomach wrenched when he clicked on the CNN Attack tag. The top posts were all from journalists. One was indeed stating that an anchor had been shot in the head. It wasn’t gossip. Hearsay. No, it was _reputable_. NBC’s Tom Costello had tweeted that out. 

“Chris, are you okay?” Don asked. 

Without saying anything, Chris handed his phone to Don. 

Don took Chris’ phone and his eyes widened. “Holy...” he shook his head. “Anderson... it seems Andy was _right_.” 

“What, _really_?” Erin asked. 

Chris nodded. “Yeah, Tom Costello from NBC. _He_ tweeted it.” 

“Shit.” Erin exclaimed. 

“I’m freaking out.” Chris said. “Who is it?” 

“Well, it’s _not_ Phil Mattingly. He’s just tweeted.” Don handed Chris’ phone back. 

Chris looked at his phone and nodded. “I’m gonna... take a walk.” 

“You’re not allowed to go too far.” Don said. 

“I won’t.” Chris said. He adjusted his mask again. He put his hand in his pocket. As the adrenaline wore off, the winter chill started to hit, and hit hard. 

Chris made sure that he stayed as far as he could away from people as he walked around and took care not to walk behind any cameras. He looked down at his phone to see another tweet from Phil Mattingly saying that the attack was over; they were safe now. The National Guard was there.

While still in the evacuation zone, Chris scrolled through his phone for Phil’s number. 

“ _Hello_?” 

“Hey, Phil.” Chris said. “I just need to know... are you okay?” 

“ _I’m not **hurt**_.” Phil offered. 

“We’ve been evacuated.” Chris said. 

“ _That... **doesn’t** surprise me_.” Phil said. “ _People have **died** down here._”

Chris breathed out heavily. 

“ _John King’s head’s been split open_ -“

“Was he shot?” Chris asked quickly. “Was _he_ shot?” 

“ _No. I don’t know who was shot. There’s people still missing_.” Phil said. “ _The National Guard are still bringing people out_.” 

“So someone _was_ shot?” Chris asked. 

“ _Yeah_.” Phil said. “ _More than one person was shot, actually. People were stabbed. Beaten. Crushed. Assaulted. It’s horrible here. Brutal. And Wolf’s just in some kind of fugue state, covered in someone else’s blood and he won’t tell us who’s-“_

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Chris said. 

“ _I’m not **hurt** , but I don’t know if I‘m **okay**_.” Phil admitted.

“Then I’m glad you’re not hurt.” Chris said. He didn’t know what else he could say. He wasn’t there and coronavirus meant that even if he was, he couldn’t comfort anyone anyway. He was still just trying to wrap his head around what was happening, just the same as everyone else. He supposed his brother already knew about this.

”Take care, brother.” He said, unable to think of any way he could carry on the conversation. He hoped Phil would understand.


	6. Phil Mattingly

CNN HQ was now swarming with National Guard troops as well as EMTs. The more seriously injured people had already been rushed off to hospital, and Phil had no idea who any of those people were or whether they were even still alive or not. The National Guard were still bringing people out of the building from their various hiding places. People were still missing. He still hadn’t heard from Sciutto, Kaitlan or Brianna yet either. And rumours were beginning to circulate that Jake had been killed.

Phil was sitting down on the sidewalk being checked over by an EMT when his phone rumbled in his pocket. The caller? Chris Cuomo. 

“Hello?” He asked. 

“ _Hey, Phil.”_ Chris said. “ _I just need to know... are you okay_?”

Phil looked around at the carnage around him. “I’m not  _hurt_.”

“ _We’ve been evacuated.”_ Chris said.

“That...  _doesn’t_ surprise me.” Phil said. “People have  _died_ down here.”

A sigh from the other end of the line. 

Phil was lucky to have escaped physical harm and he knew this, but his thoughts drifted to his injured colleagues. And the gaping wound at the back of John’s head that would clearly need to be sewn back together. “John King’s head’s been split open-“

“ _Was he shot_?” Chris asked. “ _Was **he** _ _shot_?”

“No.” Phil said truthfully. John hadn’t been shot; he’d been beaten and Phil knew that for a fact. “I don’t know who was shot.” He admitted. “There’s people still missing. The National Guard still are bringing people out.”

“ _So someone_ ** was ** _shot_?” Chris asked.

“Yeah.” Phil said with a nod, as the EMT gave him a nod of acknowledgement and walked away to go and triage the next potential patient. “More than one person was shot, actually.” He said, going on what he’d heard. “People were stabbed. Beaten. Crushed. Assaulted. It’s horrible here. Brutal. And Wolf’s just in some kind of fugue state, covered in someone else’s blood and he won’t tell us who’s-“

Chris interrupted him. “ _ I’m glad you’re okay.” _

“I’m not  _ hurt, _but I don’t know if I‘m  _ okay_.” Phil admitted.

“ _Then I’m glad you’re not hurt.”_ Chris said. There was a slight pause before he spoke up again. “ _Take care, brother.” _

“Chris, are _you_ okay?” Phil asked quickly.

“ _Still trying to understand it all.”_ Chris said. 

“Me too.” Phil pulled himself up off the sidewalk. He caught sight of Wolf now sitting down with a blanket wrapped around him and still wearing blood stained clothes. “Be safe up there.” He said. 

A sigh. “ _Yeah. You too._ ” 

Phil ended the call. Everything was horrible. He decided to find his cameraman that he’d lost a bit earlier on in the scuffle. He put his mask back on and walked around, looking at the carnage. 

“Phil.” It was Jeff. “Are you okay?” 

Phil shrugged. “I’m not _hurt_.” He said. 

“I’ve heard some things.” Jeff said. 

“What kind of things?” Phil asked. 

“Abby told me that John was beaten and has been taken to hospital.” Jeff said. 

Phil nodded. “That’s true.” He said. “I saw him. He has a huge cut on the back of his head.” 

“Ouch.” Jeff said. “Well, I also heard that Jake was shot in the neck and died in Wolf’s arms.” 

Phil glanced downwards as his stomach lurched. “I... hadn’t heard that was _true_.” He said. “Those were _rumours_.” He looked over at Wolf and realised that his present state made more sense if that _had_ actually happened. 

“I heard that a security officer was stabbed and died.” Jeff said. “Another was beaten and died.” 

Phil nodded. “That’s true. I also know an intern was shot in the stomach and died. I don’t know who it was though.” 

“You must have seen some horrible things.” Jeff said. 

Phil nodded. ”I saw _things_.” He said. “I think, if Jake’s dead, I was probably the last person to see him alive. The last thing he told me was to be careful.” 

“Today wasn’t supposed to be a big news day, was it?” Jeff asked. 

“No.” Phil sighed. “No it wasn’t. At least not for this.”

“What do you think happens now?” Jeff asked.

“I don’t know.” Phil admitted. “I should probably let my wife know I’m okay.” 

Jeff nodded. “I get it. I should probably call my family too.” 

“Be safe.” Phil said. He took out his phone to send a quick text to his wife. 

The rioters had mostly all gone now, pushed back by the National Guard. The police were arresting people. The FBI and their CSIs were starting to arrive. 

“Phil.” It was the cameraman. “You okay?” 

Phil nodded. “I’m not _hurt_.” He said. 

“What do you want to do?” 

“What, besides _this_ , has happened today?” 

“It’s Martin Luther King Day.” 

Phil put his phone in his pocket. “Yeah. It is.” 

“Do you wanna do a report on Dr King?” The cameraman asked. 

Phil shook his head. “Nah. I don’t feel I should.” 

“Do you wanna report on _this_?” The cameraman asked. 

“I don’t want to.” Phil said. “Is there anything else that’s happened?”

“Betty White is 99.”

“Too much of a fluff piece.” 

“Tom Brady’s Buccaneers smashed Drew Brees’ Saints in the playoffs at the weekend.” 

“I don’t report on sports.” 

“Well... it’s apparently Blue Monday.” 

“Yeah, _that_ I’m feeling.” Phil sighed. 

“Well... it’s just come out that the UK has the highest COVID death rate in the world per capita.” The cameraman said. 

“Yeah.” Phil nodded. “ _That_ feels right.” He said. “Just about matches the bleakness I feel and doesn’t mention CNN or America at all. Let’s go do a report-“

“With all due respect, Phil, how do we do that when our place of work is an active crime scene?” The cameraman asked. 

Phil sighed. Then he remembered Google was a thing. “We have phones and iPads. We’ll just... we’ll have to do our research on those.” He said. 

Phil tried to push whatever awful thoughts that were in his head out, but he couldn’t. He was hurting but couldn’t show it. He’d witnessed a stabbing. He’d witnessed a mob of crazed white supremacists violently beating his one of his colleagues. People without masks on had spat on him-luckily he was wearing his mask, but had he been exposed to COVID?

“Alright, let’s do that.” The cameraman said. 

The two of them sat down on the sidewalk to research COVID rates in the UK. It wasn’t ideal; temperatures were freezing outside. But they were safe. For now. 


	7. Abby Phillip

Abby had managed to escape without injury. She knew that being a black woman, she was _incredibly_ lucky that she wasn’t injured. The white supremacists that had attacked her workplace would have seen that she’d died had it not been for her friend and mentor, John King. It was only now, while standing outside, that the cold temperatures were finally hitting her. 

Still, she found it terrifying when she was found hiding under the desk by the National Guard, who then escorted her out of the building; all while those same white supremacists jeered at her. And she didn’t even have her mask on. It left her exposed to the virus. 

As she stood on the sidewalk, Abby watched as the reporters who’d been out covering other things around the city and had been recalled back were actually arriving back at headquarters. In the past five minutes she’d already seen Kaitlan Collins, Brianna Keilar and Jim Sciutto arrive back. Others were due back still. While Manu Raju was still apparently locked down at Capitol Hill. It made sense that there would be a lockdown there, given what had happened there not two weeks ago and what had just happened at CNN. 

“Abby, are you okay?” Jim Acosta asked. He’d approached her without his cameraman. “It’s okay, I’m not going to ask any hard questions. This is me asking as a friend, not a reporter.” 

“I don’t know.” Abby replied. “I _really_ don’t know. The whole thing probably just lasted around twenty minutes or half an hour. It felt a lot longer. And people are dead. And _hurt_. But _I’m_ not.” 

“That’s a good thing.” Jim said. 

Abby nodded. “But John _is_ hurt.” 

“I know.” Jim said. 

“You weren’t there. You were at the White House.” 

“I was. Because that’s my job-“

“The President didn’t do this-he doesn’t even have access to Twitter. Parler’s been taken down- _how_ did they do this?” 

Jim shrugged. “I don’t know. But I bet that in time, we’ll find out.” He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a ziplock baggie with a disposable mask in it. “I think you need this more than I do.” 

Abby looked at the bag hesitantly. “It’s unused?” 

“Yeah, it’s just a spare.” Jim said.

Abby took the bag and opened it up. “I want to go home.” She put the mask on.

“We all do.” Jim said. “I’m sure of it.” 

“I think Wolf needs to go home more than me though.” Abby said. “Jake died in his arms.” 

“Jake’s not dead.” Wolf said from behind them. “Or he... he wasn’t when I was there.”

“Wolf.” Jim said. “Where’s Dana?” 

“She’s gone to be with John in the hospital.” Wolf said.

“Is he okay?” Abby asked. 

Wolf shrugged. He took the blanket from around his shoulders and draped it over Abby’s. “You look cold though.” 

“I _am_ cold.” Abby said. “I just can’t believe this happened.” 

“Neither can I.” Jim said. “And I’m supposed to be at the White House. How will the President react when he learns all the press has left his lawn-“

“Who cares?” Wolf said. “He’s been banned from social media. His opinion holds no weight anymore. In two days, Biden will be inaugurated.” 

“Are you still going to cover it?” Abby asked. 

“I am.” Wolf said. “Even though The Situation Room is a crime scene-“

“Same with Inside Politics.” Abby said. 

“Guess we’ll all be filming from The Lead for now.” Jim said. 

“Who’s going to take over The Lead?” Abby asked. 

“That’s not a question that needs answering _right now._ ” Wolf said. 

“No. You’re right.” Abby nodded. There were a million things running through her head. Her concern for her colleagues, whether she’d caught the virus, whether John was okay or not, whether Jake was dead or not, how did this happen, what happens next...

“Jim!” Kaitlan came rushing over. “Wolf, Abby.” She greeted. 

“Are you okay?” Jim asked. 

“I’m fine.” Kaitlan replied. “Only I-I heard some things.” 

“What kind of things?” Jim asked. 

“I heard that John-John King-that he’s in a _coma_ -“

“He’s not.” Abby said. “That’s-it’s not true.” 

“And I also heard that Jake Tapper was murdered.” 

“He _was_ shot.” Wolf said. 

Kaitlan looked down at Wolf’s suit. “Oh my god.” She exclaimed. “Is that...?”

Wolf nodded sadly. “He wasn’t dead when I was last with him. But I don’t know if he is _now_ -something might have changed in the last hour.” 

Kaitlan turned to Jim. “Jim?” 

“I’m fine. I wasn’t there.” Jim said. 

“You two were?” Kaitlan asked. 

Wolf nodded again. 

“Yeah.” Abby said. “I’m not hurt. I _saw_ some things, but I _didn’t_ get hurt.”

“No physical injuries.” Wolf said. 

Kaitlan nodded. “Good to hear.” She said. “I was just-I need to borrow Jim.”

“You can have me.” Jim said. 

“Are you _sure_ about that?” Kaitlan asked.

Jim realised what he’d said and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment . “I-I don’t mean in _that_ way.” 

Kaitlan raised her eyebrow. “Of course you didn’t.” 

Jim sighed. “Let’s just go.” 

Kaitlan nodded and led Jim away. 

Abby shrunk further into Wolf’s blanket. “I’m cold.” She complained. 

“It’s still not safe inside.” Wolf said. 

Abby nodded. She knew that, logically. The place was crawling with feds now. Her place of work was a crime scene. She looked over at Wolf. He’d seen Jake get shot, just as she’d seen John get beaten. She couldn’t help it; her mind took her back to that moment. 

The show about to start, but being told to lock down. The alarms blaring. Hearing a loud bang, almost like an explosion and John pushing her under the desk. John taking charge telling everyone to take cover, standing guard. The rioters breaking in and attacking people, hitting John with the recording equipment. A cameraman being taken out. John being taken out. A gunshot. Screaming. The National Guard broke it all up and helping Abby from her hiding place. Hugging John in relief, only to realise that he was bleeding; his head had been slashed open and he didn’t even notice. But he was conscious. And talking to her. And hugging her back. 

“I know.” Abby said. “I was there, remember?” 

“Not really, no.” Wolf said. 

“Well, I _do_.” Abby said. 

“I don’t doubt that.” Wolf said. 

Jim Sciutto walked by and gave a nod of greeting to the two. 

“Sciutto’s okay.” Abby said. 

“I don’t think he is.” Wolf said. 

Abby turned to him. “What do you mean?”

“Are any of us okay after what happened today?” Wolf asked. 

Abby considered the question. But gave no answer. Because she knew Wolf was right. 


	8. John King

John was still sitting down on the gurney he’d been brought in the emergency room on. And he was still wearing his suit that he was about to broadcast in. It had some blood spatter on it, but he could probably get it out with the right detergent. Unfortunately his mind wasn’t on detergent. His mind was on the gaping wound at the back of his head. It was aching and he would swear that he could feel his pulse there. He put his hand to the wound. 

“You need to stop doing that, John, it’ll get infected.” Dana said. She was sitting down in a plastic chair next to his gurney. 

“It _hurts_.” John complained. 

“I don’t doubt that.” Dana said. “It looks _really_ sore. And I know it’s still bleeding, but poking at it is going to make it worse.” 

“I’m not a kid, Dana.” John said. 

“I know you aren’t.” Dana said. 

“I can still hear the ringing in my ears.” John complained. “My head’s killing me.” 

“Well your skull _is_ fractured.” Dana pointed out. “It’s going to hurt.” 

“What’s it like back there?” John asked. “At CNN?”

“John...” Dana sighed. “A few people have died. Jake might be one of them.” 

“... Tapper?” John asked. 

Dana nodded. “Yeah. He’s-it’s going around that he was shot. Wolf pretty much confirmed it to me.” 

“What’s happened to our country?” John asked. “First an insurrection at the Capitol, now _this_.” He reached to touch his head wound, but Dana grabbed his wrist first. 

“ _Don’t_ do that.” She said, sternly. 

“What?” John asked. 

“Touch your wound.” 

“I was doing that?” John asked. “Is that what’s hurting my head?” 

“Don’t play dumb.” Dana said. 

“I’m not.” John said. His head was hurting and the pain on its own was bad enough to make him want to throw up all over himself. But he knew he couldn’t. He had to hold it together. Even though his brain had been rattled in his skull and caused him a lot of confusion. 

Then John came to the realisation that Dana was stroking his hand with her thumb. Why? Why was she even here at all?

“What you did for Abby was very brave.” Dana said. “You probably saved her life.”

John nodded, but quickly came to the conclusion that he shouldn’t have done that as it made his nausea worse. “Yep.” He said. He lowered his head, trying not to think about throwing up. 

“Do you want me to call someone?” Dana asked. 

“No.” John said. “Not yet. I can manage.” He lowered his mask.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Dana said. 

“Are you just going to tell me what I can and can’t do?” John asked as he pulled his mask back up over his nose. “You’re like my mom.” 

Dana chuckled, knowing that John wasn’t being mean. “Well, while you’ve got a severe head injury, I _am_ your mom.” 

“It’s not _that_ bad-“

“A skull fracture _is_ severe.” Dana said.

John lifted his head slightly. He knew she was right. “How’s Abby?” He asked, trying to change the subject.

“Physically, she’s fine.” Dana said. “Psychologically, I think she’s still in shock after seeing you get beaten.” 

“I need to see her.” John slid off the gurney. 

Dana stood up. “No you don’t. You haven’t even had your head sewn up yet.” 

“Why weren’t you there?” John asked. 

“I was barricaded in my office-“

“Why are you here _now_?” 

“Because I care about you.” 

“My head hurts.” John complained. 

“I know.” Dana said. “It’s okay. Well. It’s not _okay_. But it could be worse-you’re not dead.” 

“I’m not dead, no.” John said. “But I have a splitting headache. Figuratively _and_ literally.” 

“And literally.” Dana bit her lip, clearly trying not to laugh what with the seriousness of the situation.

“It’s okay, you can laugh. I wouldn’t have made the joke otherwise.” 

“I’m glad to see you still have a sense of humour.” 

“What if I need surgery?” John asked. 

“You don’t need surgery.” Dana said. “Come on. Sit down.” 

John pulled himself back up on the gurney. “Why are you here?” He asked again. 

“Because. I care about you.” Dana said. “We’re not married anymore. But we work together. We have a son together. And you _know_ I don’t hate you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” John said.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt.” Dana said. 

“Do you think Jonah knows what happened?” John asked. 

“It’s... it’s been two hours.” Dana said, looking down at her phone. “Maybe. Maybe not. It depends what his nanny’s letting him watch. Oh I’ve just had a text from Wolf.” 

“Is _he_ okay?” John asked.

“He’s asking how you are.” Dana said. 

“I’m okay.” John said. “Well, not really.” 

“Do you want me to tell him about your skull fracture or your concussion? Or do you want to tell him yourself?” Dana asked. 

John considered the question. Or did his best to. The pain at the back of his head was a big distraction. “Yeah. Tell him.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“I’m sure.” 

Dana nodded and began typing on her phone. 

John tried to remember why he was in the hospital and his mind drifted back to being in his studio. Then MAGA something. And the next thing he knew, he was here and Dana was next to him. He knew he’d suffered a bad head injury and that his skull was fractured and that there was a laceration at the back of his head that needed stitching up. But he didn’t remember how it happened. Perhaps it was for he best that he didn’t. 

“Dana, is Wolf _okay_?” He asked. 

“The last time I saw him, he was physically unharmed, but covered in Jake’s blood.” Dana said. She lowered her phone. “Rumour has it that Jake died in his arms.” 

In that moment, John forgot how to breathe. He was just so surprised. “Jake’s _dead_?” He wheezed. 

“Maybe.” Dana said honestly. “I don’t know for sure. I don’t think _anyone_ does. We _know_ that he was shot. And we _know_ that Wolf was there.”

“Did _you_ see anything?” John asked. “Dana?”

Dana shook her head. “No. I-I didn’t. I was in my office the whole time. I heard noises. Crashing, shouting, gunshots-“

“I’m sorry.” John said. 

Dana sighed. “It’s not your fault. _You_ didn’t incite that mob. The _President_ did by calling us ‘Fake News CNN’ for years. And QAnon... by saying that we drink the blood of children.” 

“I thought that was the liberal Hollywood elites?” John asked. 

“ _And_ us.” Dana said.

John grunted softly. “They just don’t like anyone, do they?” 

“They like the President.” Dana said.

“True.” John agreed. He brought his hand to the back of his head and felt his hair wet with blood. He moved his hand around and touched... something. He wasn’t sure what it was at first, but quickly realised it was an open wound. “Oh my god!” He exclaimed.

“ _What_?” Dana pulled her mask up. “What is it?” She asked urgently. 

John looked at his fingers. “Dana, I’m _bleeding_ -“

“Of _course_ you are-don’t touch your head. You’re going to get a staph infection or something.” Dana said admonishingly. “I don’t want to have to explain to Jonah why you’re dead.”

“I’m _not_ dead.” John reached for the back of his head again.

Dana stood back up and grabbed his wrist. “You will be if you keep playing with the wound.” She let go. “Just leave it alone.” 

“Yes, Mom.” John said. 

Dana raised an eyebrow and sat back down. She looked at her phone. 

John lifted his hand ready to touch the back of his head again, but lowered it and instead wiped his bloody fingers on his suit jacket. 

“I’ve had another text from Wolf.” Dana said. 

“Oh?” 

“He hopes he’ll be able to see you soon.” 

“Why didn’t he text _me_?” John asked. 

“Because your phone was stolen.” Dana replied.

John nodded and instantly regretted it. “I’m gonna be sick.” 

Dana looked up from her phone. “Should I call someone?” 

“Yeah.” John said, whipping his mask off. “Do it _now_.” 


	9. Dana Bash

Dana walked back into CNN headquarters. The place was swarming with National Guard, police, security guards and federal agents. But at least it was safe to go back into work now. She’d been texted into work by Wolf after driving John home from the hospital. So she was constantly having to show her ID and press passes. Not that she minded, especially after what had happened just six hours earlier. 

The first person she came across, that she knew, was Brianna. Who flagged her down in the hallway. 

“Dana!”

“Brianna!”

“How’s John?” Brianna asked. “I heard you went to the hospital with him.” 

“I didn’t.” Dana said. “I followed him there.”

“Oh well, how is he anyway?” 

“He’s hurt, but alive. He’s resting up at home now.” 

“That’s good to hear.” Brianna nodded. “Especially after Jake.” 

Dana’s heart skipped a beat. “What’s happened to Jake?” 

“Well, he was shot, wasn’t he.” Brianna said. 

“Is he _dead_?” Dana asked.

Brianna shrugged. “I don’t know.” 

“Are _you_ hurt?” Dana asked. 

“No.” Brianna said. “I’m not hurt. I wasn’t even _there_ -I was out with Sciutto and Kaitlan at the time. We went to Subway for lunch.” 

“How was it?” Dana asked. 

“The Subway?” Brianna asked. “Well, it was Subway so pretty standard really-“

“I meant finding out about what was going on.” Dana asked. 

“Oh. Well, we didn’t believe it at first.” Brianna said. “But it was all over Twitter. And journalists I know personally and am friends with on other networks were tweeting too. Someone said Jake was shot in the head.” 

“But he _wasn’t_?” Dana asked. 

“No, it was pretty close though, he was shot in the neck.” Brianna said. “At least that’s what Wolf told me. And he _was_ there.” 

Dana forced herself to take a breath. “Oh my god.” She said. “What if he’s dead? Or quadriplegic? His family...”

“And you’re his new co-anchor on State of the Union.” Brianna pointed out. “You might be doing that solo.” 

“I don’t care about _that_.” Dana said. “I care about Jake’s wellbeing. He’s my friend.” 

“Five people were killed so far.” Brianna said. “We don’t know who they are.” 

“One of them might be Jake?” 

“Yeah.” 

“This is the worst day.” 

“I don’t know.” Brianna said. “There’s been worse. January sixth? 9/11?”

“Yeah. Fair.” Dana said. “But this is up there.” 

Brianna nodded. “This _is_ pretty up there.” She admitted. “Alright. I’m glad you’re not hurt. And tell John I’m glad he’s alive.” 

“Tell him yourself. I’m not an intermediary.” Dana said. “Where are you going?”

“Home.” Brianna said. “To my family. It’s been a fuck of a day.” 

“Yeah.” Dana said. “You can say that again.” 

Brianna awkwardly waved as the two women pressed themselves up against the walls passing each other. Normally the halls were a lot wider than this one. 

Dana hurried in the opposite direction to her office to touch up her hair and makeup. Her hair was scraped together in an awkward ponytail, not her usual style, but just fine for visiting the hospital. And a lot of her makeup had come off either with her mask or all the crying. 

She hadn’t woken up that day expecting to fear for her life. But that’s what had ended up happening. She was safe and unharmed. But not everyone she knew and loved was. She tried to push that out of her mind as she walked up to her office. 

But she couldn’t and let out a shriek as someone ran passed. 

“ _Dana_?!”

“ _Sciutto_!” 

It _was_ Jim Sciutto. 

“Fuck.” He walked back to Dana. “Sorry I scared you-“

“No I just-I’m a bit on edge.” Dana said. “What are you doing here?” 

“My job. I’m an anchor and the chief security correspondent and given there was a terrorist attack at my place of work-“

“No, _here_ specifically.” 

“I... I’m going to...” Sciutto said slowly, trying to think of what to say. “Wolf’s having me on in a bit and there’s something I need to get from my office. Provided no-one’s stolen it.” 

“You forgot your phone.” Dana said knowingly.

“I forgot my phone.” Sciutto said. 

“Look at this place.” Dana said of the broken glass, debris, blood and trash strewn across the floor. “It looks awful.”

“They can’t clean any of it.” Sciutto said. “Just because we’re allowed back in, doesn’t mean it’s not still a crime scene. _That’s_ evidence.” 

“Sciutto, have you heard anything about Jake Tapper?” 

Sciutto shook his head. “No. I heard John was in a coma or something.” 

“No. No he’s not. It’s just a concussion.” Dana said. 

“Oh that’s good to hear.” Sciutto said with a nod. “I’m really sorry I frightened you. I should’ve taken more care after what happened-I just didn’t know anyone would be here-“

“It’s not your fault, Sciutto.” Dana said. “You didn’t do anything.”

Sciutto nodded. “I’ll just leave you be.” 

“Alright.” Dana said. 

Sciutto walked away, seemingly taking in all the destruction around him. 

Dana unlocked her office and walked inside. 

Everything came flooding back to her. The the notification of a breech of security, the fire alarms, grabbing her assistant and barricading themselves in here along with two fact checkers and her producer, not being able to get hold of her family. Worrying about herself and her friends and colleagues. 

She couldn’t get those thoughts out and she just started crying right there and then. She sat down on her chair and let it out. 

A soft knock at the door interrupted her. “Dana, are you okay?” 

Dana recognised the voice and lifted her head. “I honestly don’t know.” 

Abby nodded. “Yeah. I feel the same way.” She said. 

Dana wiped her eyes, smudging her makeup further. “John’s been discharged from hospital. He’s at home now.” She said. “Though you might want to know.” 

“That’s good.” Abby said. “He could have died. _I_ could have died.”

“Yeah,” Dana agreed, “you were a lot closer to that than me. I’m really sorry-“

“It’s not your fault.” Abby said. 

“I know.” Dana said. “I’m-I think I need to reapply my makeup.” 

“Need any help?” Abby asked. 

“No.” Dana said. “The six foot rule. Coronavirus.” 

“Oh yeah.” Abby said. “I think I was exposed earlier. Jim gave me his emergency mask.” 

“Shouldn’t you be quarantining?” Dana asked. 

“I don’t know if I was exposed for sure.” Abby said. “And I’m doing my best to keep away from people.” 

“Following the normal rules.” 

“Wearing a mask, social distancing and washing my hands.” 

“And not touching your face.” 

“No, I have to do that to apply makeup.” Abby said. 

“I have to do that right now.” Dana said. 

“Do you want me to go?” Abby asked. 

“I think I just need to be alone.” Dana said. 

Abby nodded. “I understand.” She said. “It’s been a long day.” 

“It’s been a _bad_ day.” Dana said. 

“It has.” Abby agreed. “And it isn’t even over.” She sighed. “Alright. I’ll see you in a bit.” 

Dana nodded. “Bye.” She said quietly as Abby walked away. 

Dana took her mask off and threw it down onto her desk. She grabbed the tissues and wiped her face to clear the tears and the runny makeup. She examined herself in the mirror. There were no physical marks to show what had happened earlier in the day. But even so, she could feel that there was. 

Dana turned her TV on and began to flick through the news channels. 

“- _enough, what happened today was absolutely shocking. Never have we, the media, faced such threats and we can easily put that down to the Big Lie pedalled by the President, Fox News and some in the Republican Party_ -“

“- _and people died! I don’t know who, nobody does. Names haven’t been released yet, but people are grieving because their loved ones are dead. There are rumours going on Twitter, but CNBC cannot independently verify their identities so_ -“

“- _can’t say for sure what was going on today. We at Fox News did have to evacuate, but we cannot say with certainty that it was due to_ -“

She quickly turned the TV off, not wanting any more reminders. 

Dana grabbed her compact and began applying a fresh coat of makeup; foundation, eyeshadow and lipstick. She didn’t have the energy or the will or even the time to apply anything else. After pulling her hair from the ponytail and combing it half heartedly, she grabbed her mask and put it on as she walked down the halls, avoiding the mess as she walked. She had to show her press pass and IDs as she passed cops and security (not that she minded) and again before she entered the studio. 

Dana walked inside the only studio that wasn’t a crime scene and where Wolf was filming The Situation Room. Jake’s.

It felt odd to be in there not knowing his fate. Whether he was alive or dead. Everything that had happened today felt surreal. Like it hadn’t happened at all. Like an uncontrollable nightmare. Nothing about this was normal. And yet, around the world, things were normal. People were going to school or work or church, synagogue, mosque, they were meeting up with their friends, feeding their pets, playing with their kids, collecting turnips in Animal Crossing, going on rides in Disney World... the world was still spinning. It hadn’t ended at all. But it sure felt like it was on pause.

Once Dana was sure that they’d gone to commercial, she sat down in the empty chair, feet away from Wolf, and opposite Gloria, who was scrolling on her phone. She removed her face mask, putting it on her knee. 

“Dana.” Wolf greeted. “How’s John?” 

“Resting at home.” Dana said. “He’s got a skull fracture and a concussion and he’s had to have sixteen staples in his head.” 

“Shouldn’t someone be with him?” Wolf asked. 

“Someone _is_ with him.” Dana said. “I wouldn’t have left him otherwise.” 

“How are _you_?” Wolf asked.

“Better.” Dana said. “Now that I know I don’t have to explain to our son that his daddy was murdered by white supremacists.” 

“It must be a relief.” Wolf said. 

“Trust me, you have _no_ idea.” Dana said. “So what are we talking about? On the show.” 

“President-elect Biden’s condemnation of the attacks and the ramp up of security for his upcoming inauguration.” Wolf said. “They’re bringing in five thousand more National Guard troops, boosting the number from twenty-five to thirty thousand. Biden is insistent to take his oath outside. He trusts the National Guard and the Secret Service.”

“Anything else?” Dana asked. 

“Thirty seconds!” 

“Yeah, we’re expecting the President to pardon some one hundred people either later today or tomorrow.” Wolf said. 

“A _hundred_ people?” Dana asked.

“And he wants to pardon _himself_.” Wolf said.

“Well, no surprise there.” Dana said.

“Alright. We are back in five, four, three...”


	10. Wolf Blitzer II

Wolf was in his office, thinking about the day’s events. He had on the news, Anderson Cooper 360, which was talking about it. It had been a long day. His office was a mess as it had been ransacked earlier. His studio was a crime scene. He’d witnessed one of his good friends get shot in the neck by an antisemite. The things that had happened today would stay with him for the rest of his life; however long that may be. 

Here he was at the age of seventy-two, walking around, breathing, reporting. Jake was fifty-one. Would he have the chance to reach seventy-two? Or had he already died of blood loss?

Wolf’s phone buzzed on the table; it was a call from his wife. 

He ignored it. 

He knew that she knew he was okay. They’d talked earlier and she watched him on the news, as she always did. 

He reached for his phone and sent her a text to let her know that he was okay again. And that he’d be home soon, he still had work to do here. 

He didn’t, of course. He just couldn’t bring himself to go home after everything that had happened. 

Wolf bit his lip and called up John at his home. 

“ _Yeah_?” 

Wolf sighed. “John. How-how are you?” 

“ _Well... I’m **not** dead_.” John said. 

“Dana told me about your head injuries.” Wolf said. “How are you feeling?” 

“ _Like I **am** dead_.” 

Wolf chuckled lightly. 

“ _I’m in pain_.” John said. “ _It hurts. My entire brain is rattled in my skull, which is fractured, and the cut on my head won’t stop throbbing. It has a **heartbeat** , Wolf. And Dana’s got her brother here watching me. It’s weird._” 

“It’s not weird. You have a head injury.” Wolf said. “What if you had a seizure and died or something?” 

“ _ **That** would suck_.” John said. “ _So are you okay_?” 

“I’m fine.” Wolf said.

“ _You don’t have to lie_.” John said. “ _Dana told me. Jake was shot and you held him while he died._ ” 

“No, he wasn’t dead when they took him in the ambulance to the hospital with a tube down his throat.” Wolf said. 

“ _I’m sorry you saw that._ ” John said. 

“You have _no_ idea.” Wolf swivelled around on his office chair and stared at the TV. Anderson was just finishing off his Keeping Them Honest segment. “Are you watching Anderson?” 

“ _Not allowed._ ” John said. “ _Apparently watching TV is too strenuous if you have a concussion._ ” 

“This is going to be a rough few days for you then.” Wolf said. “With the inauguration.” 

“ _Yeah, I’m not gonna be able to do that_.” John said. 

“No, don’t worry, I’m still gonna be covering it.” Wolf said. “With Dana, Abby and Brianna.” 

“ _Not Jake?_ ” John asked. 

“Jake’s been badly hurt. He might be dead.” Wolf said. “We _just_ discussed this.”

John grunted. “ _Yeah. We did. Sorry_.” 

Wolf shook his head. “It’s fine.” He said. “You’re hurt yourself.” 

“ _Yeah_.” 

“Anderson’s just talking about this. It’s so surreal. I can’t believe it happened.” 

“ _I don’t **remember** it happening._” 

“You’re concussed.” 

“ _Yeah_.” 

Wolf picked up the remote and turned the TV off in the middle of an ad for some depression drug. “I don’t want to go home.” He admitted. 

“ _At least you get the **choice**_.” John said. “ _I have to stay here with a mask on in my own home. Because Dana’s brother is here for some reason_ -“

“It’s because you have a concussion.” Wolf said. 

A pause from the other end of the phone. “ _Oh yeah_.” John said. “ _It’s hard to concentrate with the pain. And the head injury_.” 

“Do you want me to hang up?” Wolf asked. “Let you rest?” 

“ _I’m so tired_.” John said. “ _Today’s been a **nightmare**_.” 

“Yeah, it has.” Wolf agreed. “I love you, John. Take care. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” 

“ _Yeah_.” John said. “ _Bye_.” 

Wolf sighed and hung up. 

He didn’t want to go home. So he stayed in his office with his thoughts for just a little bit longer. 


	11. Chris Cuomo II

Chris adjusted his tie as he waited for the signal that they were live. His producer came running over to him. 

“Chris. There’s been an update to the CNN DC attack.” 

“An update?”

“To the death toll. It’s _nine_ now.”

Chris sighed. “Nine.” He shook his head sadly. 

His producer avoided eye contact with him and glanced downwards. “It’s Jake Tapper.” 

“ _What_?” 

“Jake Tapper’s the ninth fatality.” 

“Jesus...” Chris leaned back in his chair. “What happened?”

“Shot in the neck. I’m assuming he just bled out and died.” 

Chris leaned forward and put his head in his hands. Trying to compose himself, he didn’t notice that he was now live in the middle of the toss from Anderson Cooper. 

“Chris?” Anderson asked. 

Chris lifted his head. “Jake’s died!” He said, clearly sounding distressed. 

Anderson blinked. “... _What_?”

“Jake. Jake Tapper. He’s just died from his injuries.” Chris said.

Anderson opened his mouth to say something, only nothing came out. 

The two of them sat in stunned silence for around a minute, but felt like an eternity. 

“Good god.” Anderson said, breaking the silence. 

“I know.” Chris said. 

“Jake... holy crap.” Anderson said. “I do-I don’t believe it.” 

“I’ve just been told.” Chris said. 

Anderson sighed and lowered his head. “Alright.” He nodded. “I can’t...” 

“I know.” Chris said softly. “Take care of yourself, brother, and hold Wyatt tighter tonight.”

Anderson wiped his eye. “You look after yourself too.” 

Chris sighed. “Alright. This is Cuomo Prime Time. I’m Chris Cuomo. And you’re here with me as I’m breaking the news that my own colleague has died, has been _murdered_ , by a violent right wing mob. The Retrumplicans. They killed my _friend_ and my colleague. A highly respected anchor. He was promoted just last week. Now he’ll never experience it. His children no longer have their father. His wife is now his widow. But of course we know that Jake wasn’t the only person to lose his life against this violent mob today. Eight other people also died today. We don’t know who they are as their names haven’t been released yet. But we do know that they were _loved_ ; they had families. They were sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers. Friends. Colleagues. There are people in their lives that will never see them again.”

Chris was barely holding back his emotions as the pain in his voice was becoming more evident. “Twelve days after the Capitol was stormed. Not even two weeks. Not _two weeks_ after that _horrible_ , _dark_ day. _This_ happens. Six people died in those riots. Eight people died when CNN’s DC headquarters were stormed, now Jake Tapper is the ninth. That makes him the fifteenth person to be killed during white supremacist uprisings in Washington DC in _twelve days_. Think about that. The _fifteenth_. How did it get to _this_? How did we get to _this point_ as a country?” 

Chris sighed and shook his head. “It’s not fair that it had to be Jake. It’s not fair that it had to be any of them. But I know Jake personally. He was always kind and funny. Even though the last four years really took a toll on him. He loved his wife. His children. His pet dogs. He was talented in many ways. Always knew when to ask the right questions.” He paused to try and compose himself. “I can’t believe that it was _him_. I just _can’t_. He still had so much more to give the world. So much more life left to live. Jake Tapper. Taken from us at the age of fifty-one. May his memory be a blessing.” His voice cracked.

Chris wiped his eyes with his sleeve and cleared his throat. “Alright. Let’s... let’s try again. I’m Chris Cuomo and this is Cuomo Prime Time.” 


	12. Jake Tapper II

Jake opened his eyes. Everything was sterile and white. He was questioning whether he was alive or not, was he dead? That was until he became aware of the tube down his throat. Then he remembered that he’d been shot. He wasn’t dead, he was in the hospital. 

He did his best to move his fingers. On the right side, that was easy. But on the left side, they wouldn’t budge. He reached his hand to his neck, noticing he couldn’t move it either and felt plastic. He lifted his hand higher and realised he was wearing a neck brace. It was then Jake remembered Wolf pressing his hands to his neck-he’d been shot in the neck. 

He also remembered that he’d been shot in the shoulder so that was where his hand drifted to next. It was bandaged up. If his wounds were still bandaged up, he probably hadn’t been out for that long. He knew that he was lucky to have survived, especially when he didn’t know how many more of his colleagues didn’t. 

* * *

“Jake, how are you feeling now?” Anderson asked. He looked on on concern for his colleague over the video call they were currently on for AC360.

Jake was sitting, propped up on a hospital bed. His face was scarred; there were three large and angry looking scars on his left cheek, a smaller one over his right cheekbone and a large one on his forehead, through his right eyebrow. He was still wearing a neck brace, but rather than a tube in his throat, he instead had an oxygen cannula and a feeding tube. 

“Doing better.” Jake said. “Everything still hurts. Still feel as though I’ve been hit by a truck rather than a couple of bullets.” 

“I still can’t believe you were shot.” Anderson said. 

“Neither can I.” Jake said. “It’s _not_ a good experience and I definitely _can’t_ recommend it. Probably better to go skydiving or something else.” 

“How have you coped with being shot?” Anderson asked. 

“Well, I haven’t seen any of my family, except on Zoom.” Jake said. “The risk of COVID is too high. Also I still can’t eat solid foods.”

“I’m sorry this happened to you, honestly, I-“

“Don’t be.” Jake said. “This could just as easily have been you or Chris or Don or Erin.” 

Anderson nodded. “Yeah. I know.” He said. “By now, I’m sure you’re aware we’ve all seen your account of the attack. You filmed around seven minutes of it on your phone, including a full minute and a half where you were savagely beaten and the shooting itself.”

“You... _saw_ that?” Jake asked. 

“Yeah.” Anderson frowned slightly. “You-you didn’t _know_? Your wife released it to CNN from your phone.” 

“Here’s where I would shake my head, but I can’t.” Jake said, tapping his neck brace with his good hand. “I had _no_ idea. Then again, Anderson, I was in a _coma_ for a week. I’ve been in the ICU for the past _month_. Seeking out videos on the internet, even my own, haven’t exactly taken priority.” 

Anderson nodded. “Of course.” 

“Though I _will_ say that it was a relief when I woke up and was told that _Biden_ was the president.” Jake said. “What were you going to ask me about the video?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Anderson said. “After seeing that, I’m just really, _really_ glad you’re okay.” 

“I’m not okay.” Jake said. “The left side of my neck is still being reconstructed.” 

“I meant I’m glad you’re _alive_.” Anderson said. 

“I’m glad I’m alive too.” Jake said. 

“We were all told you were dead.” Anderson said. “Chris ranted and cried for you. _I_ cried for you.” 

“Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.” Jake said. “I’m not dead. I’m definitely alive. The pain in my neck and down my left arm is telling me that. Morphine can’t block all the pain, you know.” 

“Have you spoken to Wolf since the shooting?” Anderson asked. 

“No I... I haven’t.” Jake admitted. “Though if he also thinks I’m dead-“

A third person came onto the call; Wolf Blitzer. 

“Joining us now is the anchor of The Situation Room; Wolf Blitzer.” Anderson said. 

“ _Wolf_.” Jake said. “You’re okay.” 

Wolf nodded. “I’m fine. Physically.” 

“And I’m _not_ okay physically as I’m laid up in the hospital.” Jake said. 

Wolf chuckled sadly. “You’re alive though.” 

Jake sighed. “Wolf, I’m sorry I put you in that position-“

“ _Don’t_ be sorry.” Wolf said. “We were all doing what we had to do in that situation. John King risked his life trying to save Abby Phillip-“

“Is _he_ okay?” Jake asked. “Is _Abby_ okay?”

“She’s fine-she wasn’t hurt. And don’t worry about John.” Wolf said. “He’s had the staples out.” 

Jake frowned as best he could with the scar in his eyebrow. “Staples?” 

“You should talk to him about that.” Wolf said. 

“Wolf, Anderson... how many people died that day?” Jake asked. 

“Ten people died.” Anderson said. “Around sixty were injured. Only three others were hurt as badly as you were though. For the vast majority, their injuries weren’t too serious; mainly cuts, broken bones, and concussions.”

“Oh.” Jake said. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He knew it was sheer luck that he’d survived being shot in the neck. Many people didn’t. 

“Are you okay?” Anderson asked. 

“Yeah.” Jake said. 

“Wolf, you witnessed the shooting.” Anderson said. 

“I did.” Wolf said. “Around a dozen of my staff and some National Guardsmen also witnessed it. I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve been _reliving_ it.” 

“I feel bad asking now, but what did you see?” Anderson asked.

“Alarms were ringing. We were told to shelter in place. I was working with my researchers for The Situation Room when there was reports of gunfire. I sent the staffers out and I followed them to The Situation Room studio.” Wolf explained. “There was a sound, almost like an explosion, but not quite. So I had them hide and I ducked down under a desk. I think I stayed there for around ten minutes until I heard the mob storm in. They were talking about murdering journalists. I looked up to see them, who they were, but Jake ran in. One of them who was wearing, I believe a QAnon shirt with an antisemetic slogan, pulled his gun on Jake.”

“I remember _that_.” Jake said. “The alarms were awful and piercing. I suppose they have to be, they _are_ fire alarms. I ran off from my office, where I left my assistant and really should have been. I bumped into Phil, Mattingly, in the halls. He went the other way to me. I put my phone on and videoed what I saw. Then some MAGA guy attacked me-that’s where the scars on my face came from. With the help of a security guard, I was able to get away. But I ran into the Situation Room studio. I didn’t realise there would be more of them and one of them pulled his gun on me and shot me.” 

“The National Guard came in just as the man was shooting Jake.” Wolf explained. “The gun went off _four_ times, but only _three_ of the bullets hit Jake. Two in the shoulder. One in the neck. I ran over to him and he collapsed in my arms and passed out from blood loss.” 

“ _That_ I don’t really remember.” Jake said. 

“I tried to stop the bleeding, but couldn’t.” Wolf continued. “By pure luck and nothing else, it turned out that one of the National Guardsmen was an EMT, so he was able to treat Jake long enough for him to be brought out to the EMTs and rushed to hospital by ambulance. We knew Jake was badly hurt. But we didn’t know if he’d die or not. But rumour was that he’d died.”

“I’m not dead.” Jake said. “But my neck muscles are so messed up, I’ll probably be wearing this,” he tapped his neck brace, “for the rest of my life.” He frowned. “God. Imagine me presenting State of the Union like this-I’d look so _stupid_.” 

“You’d look like a survivor, Jake, because you are one.” Wolf said. 

“Politicians wouldn’t take me seriously.” Jake said. 

“Nice to see that you haven’t lost your sense of humour.” Wolf said. 

“No, I _mean_ it.” Jake said. He went to scratch his cheek, but the medical tape holding the feeding tube in place put him off. “I look awful.” 

“You’re in the hospital.” Anderson said. “You can’t expect to look camera-ready when you’re lying in the ICU.” 

“I don’t think my partially paralysed arm would help matters either.” Jake said. 

“ _What_?” Wolf asked. 

“Yeah, actually, can you elaborate on that?” Anderson asked. 

“I can’t move my middle or index finger or my thumb of my left hand. Or my wrist. Or straighten my arm.” Jake explained. “Because the bullets, y’know... the nerves? It hit the ones that control those functions.” 

“You seem pretty blasé about that.” Anderson said. 

“Oh yeah. It’s hard to be angry or upset about it when you’re on as much morphine as I am.” Jake said. 

“Jake. I’m _really_ sorry to hear that.” Wolf said. 

“Maybe we should talk it all through another time.” Jake said. 

“Alright. I don’t mean to sound callus here, but I need to go to break. Wolf, thank you for giving us you account. And I’m so sorry you went through that.” Anderson said.

“Wolf?” 

“Jake?”

“Thanks. For trying to save me.” Jake said with a weak one sided shrug. “I remember that part, actually.”

Wolf nodded. “You’d do the same for me.” 

“I would. And you too, Anderson.” Jake said. 

“Jake, thanks for talking with us. I wish you all the best in your recovery.” Anderson said. “Join us after the break where we will be discussing the impeachment trial of the former President.”


	13. Epilogue, But Not Really

Jake inhaled deeply. His hand was shaking and his breath was hitching. He felt he was sweating. He knew he was sweating. 

“Jake? Are you okay?” Wolf asked. 

Jake sighed. “Yeah. Just...” 

“A flashback?” Wolf asked. He knew that since the shooting almost four years ago, Jake had been suffering with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. 

“Nervous.” Jake said. 

“Nervous?” Wolf frowned. “You’ve covered elections for CNN before. _Two_ of them.” 

“Yeah. But never like _this_.” Jake tapped at his left arm, which was stiff and painful and twisted outwards with noticeable contractures. His wrist was bent at an almost ninety degree angle. His fingers were clawed. He wasn’t able to straighten his elbow. Or lift his arm higher than his shoulder.

Wolf raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been in front of a camera for two hours every day for the last three years and you’re worried _now_?” 

“More people watch elections.” Jake said. “And I’m gonna have to do a lot of walking around. So more people will see my arm. And what if we’re stuck with another president like the last one? Wolf, I’m a cripple, I wouldn’t survive.” 

Wolf eyed Jake’s tie on the table. “You’ll be fine, Jake.” He said. He grabbed the tie. 

“Will I?” Jake asked. “Will I, _really_?” 

“Well, your arm doesn’t look _that_ bad.” Wolf said. “Maybe people won’t notice it.” 

Jake blinked. “They’re gonna notice it. Just like they noticed the scars on my face and that I’m missing chunks out of my neck. People will tune out because they don’t want to see my ugly scars and... whatever the fuck’s going on with my arm-“

“People just want to know who’s won the election.” Wolf said. “You’ll be fine. And besides, the scars on your face are faded now. You can barely see them. Put concealer there and you can’t.” 

Jake nodded awkwardly. Since he’d been shot and had to have parts of his neck reconstructed, it was a lot stiffer than it previously had been and his muscles weren’t as strong; partly because the bullet had torn through them and partly from having to wear a neck brace each time he had a surgery. 

“I believe in you, Jake.” Wolf said. He put Jake’s tie around his neck and tied it for him. 

“Thanks.” Jake said quietly. 

Wolf patted Jake on the shoulder. “Good. Good. Now get out there and talk about the election.”

* * *

Jake took his seat at his desk, ready to begin the election coverage. Kind of. He looked at his colleagues around him; Abby Phillip, Dana Bash, Wolf Blitzer, Phil Mattingly, and John King standing at the Magic Wall. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. 

Dana squeezed Jake’s hand supportively. “You’ll be okay.” 

Abby nodded. “It’s all good.” 

“I’m not nervous. I’ve done this before.” Jake said. 

“You seem nervous.” Dana said. 

“Well, I’m _not_.” 

“We’re live in five, four-“

Jake faced the camera. “Welcome to CNN’s Election Night In America. Is it _really_ time to choose a new president already? Seems like just yesterday we were choosing the last one. I mean current one. The _current_ one.” He chuckled nervously. “Can I start again? Okay.” He cleared his throat. 

“Sorry about that. Welcome to our viewers in the United States and around the world to CNN’s Election Center.” He said more confidently. “I’m Jake Tapper and this is CNN’s Election Night In America. We are just a short time away from the first results as the polls close in Indiana and Kentucky in around a minute’s time. Well, less than that now. Will the Democrats retain the White House, or will the Republicans gain control? Results earlier out of Dixville Notch suggest-“ 

Jake was cut off by the countdown reaching zero. 

“Oh. It seems the first polls have now closed in Kentucky and Indiana.” He paused to listen to his producer in his earpiece. “And exit polls suggest that the Republicans will take both of those states and their Electoral College votes-as if that was ever in doubt.” 

Jake slid down from his chair. “For analysis, we’ll turn to John King.” 

Walking across the studio, the effects of the shooting on Jake was painfully obvious. His arm was bent and twisted, the scars on his neck were easily visible, though the brace on his shoulder was not-it was concealed by his suit-and something about his posture seemed off.

“John, what can you tell us about the votes in Indiana and Kentucky?” He asked. 

“Well, Jake, the votes are mostly all in person this year. They haven’t been counted, they are currently _being_ counted and we are expected to get results through the evening and possibly into the night.”

Jake stopped at the opposite side of the Magic Wall.

“We can make safe predictions based on exit polling-particularly if we look at past years,” John turned around and tapped on the Magic Wall which brought the results back to 2020, “we can see that in 2020, Indiana and Kentucky safely carried former President Trump. And again,” he tapped the 2016 results, “in 2016. While in 2012,” he tapped for 2012 results, “they strongly voted for Senator Mitt Romney. Republicans _haven’t_ been polling as well in Indiana as they have done in the past, but they _are_ polling strongly enough for us to confidently say that the Republicans _will_ carry Indiana. And they’re polling quite strongly in Kentucky. These projections give the Republicans a head start. Eight electoral college votes in Kentucky. Eleven in Indiana. For a nineteen electoral college vote total so far. This _will_ change over the course of the night, but will the Republicans maintain their lead? Or will the Democrats catch up or overtake?” 

“Time can only tell.” Jake said. 

“Absolutely.” John nodded. 

“And what about Dixville Notch?” Jake asked. 

John smiled. He tapped the board to zoom out. “Dixville Notch voted at midnight and so all the votes were released at midnight. It’s one of three towns in New Hampshire that does this and because of Dixville Notch’s small population, their vote is usually counted first.” He zoomed in on New Hampshire. “The town only has a voting population of five and the Democrats won four votes as opposed to the Republicans’ one.”

“Yeah.” Jake nodded in his awkward way. 

“Hart’s Location, which did not participate in midnight voting in 2020 due to the coronavirus pandemic, was much more divided.” 

“Oh boy.” 

“Their votes were split, twenty for the Republicans. Twenty-two for the Democrats.” 

“Narrow victory.” Jake said. 

John nodded. “Yeah. And Millsfield, the newest town in the midnight voting tradition, once again went for the Republicans. Sixteen votes to the Democrats’ five.”

“Polls in the rest of New Hampshire close at eight eastern, and you can bet we’ll be keeping an eye on the results.” Jake said. “Wolf?” 

‘ _You okay?’_ John mouthed. 

‘ _Yeah, fine.’_ Jake mouthed back and forced a smile. 

John nodded. ‘ _You’re doing great_.’ He mouthed.

‘ _I know_.’ Jake mouthed. He walked back over to the desk, carefully, as Wolf talked and sat down once he’d stopped.

“We’ll be right back with more election news and more election results coming in soon. Don’t go anywhere.” Wolf said. 

“Alright, we’re off the air! Two minutes!” Someone shouted. 

Wolf sighed. “Jake-“

“Don’t even.” Jake said. 

“What?” Wolf asked.

“I can’t do this, Wolf, I just know everyone’s talking about me.” Jake said. 

“Don’t think about that.” Phil said. “Think about the election. Because that’s what people are really talking about.”

“And who cares if people are talking about you, Jake, you’re _fifty-five_ years old. You should be out of your ‘but what will they say’ phase.” Abby said. “I appreciate that what happened to you was horrible. It shouldn’t happen to anyone, but-“

“I was _shot_ , Abby, people get shot all the time.” Jake said. 

“But you were shot in a _terrorist attack_.” Abby said. 

“Your arm is partially paralysed.” Dana said. “That’s why you have that brace on.”

“What brace?” Jake asked.

“Don’t play dumb, we’ve all seen it, Jake.” Phil said. 

“ _I_ haven’t.” Wolf said. 

“It’s just like...” Abby ran her finger in a circle around Jake’s shoulder. 

Jake rested his elbow on the desk and put his head in his hand.

“Oh interesting.” Wolf said. 

“Yeah, it stabilises his shoulder, keeps it looking normal.” Dana said. “Or as normal as possible with the rest of his arm looking the way it does.” 

“God I wish I’d called in sick today.” Jake mumbled.

“No you don’t.” Phil said. “You’ll be fine.” 

“No, I do. I _hate_ this.” Jake said. 

“Get up, Jake.” Dana said. “You aren’t a teenager. And _I_ would know; I _have_ one.” 

“You’re doing fine, Jake!” John called out. 

“Why don’t you come over here, John?” Wolf shouted. “Or have the producers glued your shoes to the floor again?” 

“Funny!” John shouted. 

“You’re going to have to hibernate there like an owl-“

“Owls don’t hibernate-“

“Yes they do!” Wolf argued. “They’re nocturnal!” 

“ _I’m_ not!” John shouted.

“But you _are_ going to be up all night counting those results!” Wolf called out. “You’re the map guy! Magic Wall! Oooo!” He said, imitating a ghost for some inexplicable reason.   
  
“What are you doing?” Phil asked.   


“Nothing.” Wolf said. 

“You’re weird, Wolf.” Dana said. 

“She’s right.” Jake said. 

“How do you stay so professional on camera?” Abby asked.

Wolf shrugged.

“Thirty seconds!”

Jake quickly composed himself and flexed all of his fingers that could be flexed. 

“You aren’t normally so self conscious of your arm.” Wolf said. “Just don’t think about it-“

“Don’t think about it?” Jake asked. “Wolf, I can’t help but think about it. I can’t hardly move it.”

“Just focus on the results,” Phil said, “and hopefully it won’t take five days to announce this time.” 

Jake nodded. “Yeah.”

“We’re back in five, four, three-“ 


End file.
